


Produce 101 Oneshots

by Beibiter



Category: Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Short, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beibiter/pseuds/Beibiter
Summary: Produce 101 oneshots featuring you and the trainees(including the ones who have been eliminated) or what I wanted the top 11 to be like (kind of)





	1. Park Woojin

You put on a smile and look at him. Park Woojin. Woojin who pulled at your carefully braided hair sitting in the seat behind you in class. Woojin who is probably the smartest person you know but also too shy to raise his hand in class. Woojin who is leaving everything behind. Everyone, including you, to try his luck at some stupid talent show.

 

“If you forget me while you're not here, I'll kill you”, you threaten and he rakes a hand through his freshly dyed dark red hair. You told him he would look ridiculous. He would remind people of a fire alarm. You knew that he probably did it to get some precious spotlight in the show. It would be hard to survive with hundred other trainees as your rivals, trainees that were just as desperate as you. Maybe a crazy hair color would give him an advantage. Maybe. The color had turned out looking good though. It suits him. You didn't tell him that.

 

“And don't you dare get a girlfriend in Seoul!” You cross your arms against your chest as a small smile appears on his face. “Seoul women are cool and chic and you're just a country bumpkin!”

 

Maybe you're saying it to reassure yourself. Reassure yourself that he won't find someone else in Seoul. That he won't give you up while he's in Seoul. You feel your eyes prickling just thinking about this when he suddenly opens his mouth and then hesitates for a second.

 

Woojin rarely ever does that. Speaking. Not just because he's shy. He's painfully shy. But he's also afraid of showing his front tooth, the one that sticks out. You know that. Would a girl in Seoul know that someday, too?

 

“I won't.” He finally says, scratching his head and looking at you. The pale morning sun paints shadows on his face. The shadow of his long lashes. The shadow of his angular nose. “I won't find someone in Seoul.”

 You ignore his words.

“Stop speaking with your dialect”, you mumble under your breath, quickly looking away from him. “People in Seoul are going to tease you.”

 

You stare down at your feet. At your dirty sneakers. Do all city girls wear high heels?

 

Suddenly, his fingers find your chin and tap your jaw, making you look up. He's frowning, his thick eyebrows drawn together into a worried expression. As if he's sensing your anxiety. Then, slowly, his expression eases into a teasing smile. A smile so boyish that you feel your heart thumping in your chest, beating against your ribcage.

 

The world comes to a standstill. Silence. Everything halts. There's no one else but you. You can still feel Woojin's warm fingers on your face. His lips are pink as he opens his mouth, “I won't find someone in Seoul. I already have someone here.”


	2. Kang Daniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unhappy Marriage AU

You didn't know when everything started going wrong. When you started treating each other like strangers in your own house.

 

“Could you pass me the salt, please?” Your voice rings hollow as you speak and your children awkwardly chew on their vegetables as Daniel hands you the salt silently.

 

They must have noticed, too, must have noticed how and your husband had further and further distanced yourself from each other.

 

At first, it was 'I'm busy with work'. Now, you don't even bother with giving excuses to explain your long absences from your shared home. Not like Daniel asks for any reasons why you're staying out late again, anyways.

 

“Thank you”, you say monotonously. You put a generous amount of salt on your asparagus. Everything has started becoming bland. Daniel used to have cherry-blossom hair and white bunny teeth. You used to think that his smile was the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

These days, you never see him smiling.

 

After you're finished with eating, having gulped the last pieces down, you stand in the kitchen. Daniel is clearing the table, carrying the dirty plates from the dining room to the kitchen sink.

 

“I want to file for divorce.” You whisper the words, but he must have heard them, because he stops and stares at you for the first time that evening. His dark hair covers his forehead and his brown eyes peer at you from behind his fringe.

 

When did the longing in them turn into indifference, you wonder for a second. When did love turn into mutual dislike?

 

You grip onto the kitchen counter. The next words are even more difficult for you. “I've found someone else.”

 

Daniel's gaze hardens and you quickly look away. Coincidentally, you find yourself staring at the clock on the windowsill. It was a present from his mother. You had laughed when she gave it to you, but her expression was earnest.

 

'Always make time for one another', she had said with sincerity.

 

You didn't understand her words back then.

 

“It's Jisung”, you force out. “He has no problems dating a divorcee.”

Letting go of the counter, you turn to Daniel again, crossing your arms against your chest. “Do you understand me?”


	3. Yoo Seonho

When you were twenty you dreamed of romance. You yearned for an older guy with a a lot of money. A guy who is handsome, warm and responsible. A man who would take care of you.

Your friends teased you relentlessly for wanting to date an older guy for they were content with just dating boys the same age as them. They used every opportunity to tease you with the fact that you rejected all of the advances from, what you thought, were immature college guys.

When you finally received your degree though, dating was off the table. With your impressive marks and a long list of internships, you had managed to secure a job at a well-known international cooperation and you knew you had to work hard there to keep your place. That was more than three years ago.

You shake your head at those random thoughts invading your mind. You don't have time to reminisce about the past. Striding into the building with confident steps, you clutch your expensive brand name purse closer to your body. Ever since you've been promoted to junior manager of your subdivision a few months ago, the feeling was completely different.

You rejoiced at the polite bow the guards now gave you and every morning you gave your new subordinates a bright smile. Today, you would even get your own personal intern. Something, your friend had jokingly called your new slave.

Of course, you wouldn't literally treat him as such, but it made you happy that you could soon relegate trivial things to a new employee. It would make more time for you to focus on important tasks and you thought it was amazing that your supervisors finally acknowledged all the time and effort you had been pouring into the job.

Walking into your office with quick steps, your black heels clicking on the linoleum, you sit down behind your laptop. It's the newest model on the market. A gift. A privilege only granted to those who had earned it. Glancing at the clock, you realize that it's still a bit early. You were told that your intern would arrive at eight. He still had fifteen minutes left.

Starting to open your recent documents, you click through the many folders and start typing. You quickly become immersed in your work. You don't hear the knock on the door.

Only when some knocks for a second time, more firmly this time, do you look up, slightly startled. Right. Eight o'clock. He's punctual. You gotta give him that.

"You can come in", you say, suddenly feeling a hint of giddy excitement. 

Slowly, someone opens the door slightly. It's left. Then, with the speed of a snail, someone cautiously pushes his head halfway through the clearance. The first thing you see is shiny black hair and a bad haircut that looks entirely too familiar...

Something clicks in your mind as the door widened even more to reveal a certain young worker who greats you with an awkward hand wave.

"Yoo... Seonho?!"

You are completely astonished. Flabbergasted. Shocked. You had expected a diligent stranger, someone you hadn't encountered before. A foreigner from Taiwan. Instead, you'd gotten Yoo Seonho. The person that you refused to call a man even though he was nearing twenty-three. The person who had been your in your department before. The person who continually ran after you, even though you had rejected him twenty times or more. He.... wasn't supposed to work under you now.

No, you shout in your mind, your fingers jerking forward to your keyboard. No way! This has to be a mistake!

You frantically look at your laptop clicking to the relevant folder. 

There!

A photo. A CV. Lai Guanlin. Lai Guanlin was supposed to be your new intern. Lai Guanlin. Not Yoo-crushing-on-you-Seonho!

Looking up at him with wide eyes you see him standing pressed against the wall with his hands folded. His thick prescription glasses lie askew on his nose and he timidly returns your appalled stare with a slight pout of his pink chapped lips.

"What are you doing here?", it finally breaks out of you. "You- You're not Lai Guanlin!"

You stare at him, waiting for an answer. Some kind of explanation or justification why he was here. This has to be a mistake or an elaborate joke!

It is silent for a few seconds. Then Seonho removes himself from the wall.

Peering at you from underneath his dark lashes, he finally bows deeply and yells loudly. "I apologize! Lai Guanlin resigned! I'm his replacement!"

His what? You breathe out through your nose, your nostrils flaring dramatically. Then you rub your temple with your pointer finger. You feel an incoming headache.

"Where is he?" You know you sound clipped because Seonho flinches at your words. He delicately rearranges his glasses on his nose. They're still askew.

"Lai Guanlin?", Seonho asks, guessing.

"Who else?", you bark at him, making him take a step back. He's pressed against the wall again, staring at you like you just kicked a puppy. Nervously gliding his fingers along the frame of his glasses, he opens his mouth.

"He's in the US, now. He resigned to become...." Seonho hesitates for a minute, reluctant to continue.

"To become what?", you insist.

"To become a rapper in the states."

 

A/N: Can you imagine a shy office worker! Seonho? I might write a part two to this, because this turned into a joke somehow. I'm not even sorry...


	4. Noh Taehyun

It's funny, really. The three of you thought you could cheat death. Cheat death like you always did.

Taehyun's crisp white shirt is covered with red stains. It reeks.

Straightening up, you head over to the wash basin and hold a cloth under the water.

“Taehyun.” You throw it at him. Hitting his chest, the wet cloth falls onto the dirty linoleum.

Adrenaline is no longer surging through your veins, arms hanging down to your side and muscles aching from kneeling behind the windowsill all night. You had the easy job.

“Taehyun”, you repeat with impatience. Tiredness is pressing down your eyelids, but fight the urge to lie down and sleep.

“We need to go.”

The helicopter is leaving without you if you don't show up. Instructions were clear. They probably expected you to show up as three. Maybe they didn't. Maybe Jisung had his cameras somewhere and was televising your successful failure. You had gotten what he wanted. But you had lost something more important.

Your foot hits his shoulder. “If we don't go now, they'll leave without us. I'm sure you don't want to fight Jihoon's henchmen now.”

You kick him again. “I'm leaving.”

You won't.

“You can cry over Sungwoon later”, you force out. At the sound of the name, Taehyun looks up.

His eyes drift over you.

“I'll drag you out of here if I have to”, you utter, staring at his immobile body. You'll probably have to.

Striding over to grab his hand with force, you pull him up, his limp body falling against yours. You exhale at the added weight, feeling his head pressed against your shoulder. The sickening sweet smell of sweat and decay penetrates your nose as you move his arm to drape it over your shoulders.

His face is close to yours, but you know that his mind is far away. In another room. Close to the corpse of your best friend, your partner who'd been executed with a single bullet to his forehead.

Dragging Taehyun's lifeless body with you, you pass by the countless doors of the empty hotel corridor and finally reach the rooftop. It feels like there's no oxygen in your lungs as you cross the ground. The extra weight is too much to bear.

The helicopter is there but when the door gets thrown open with impatience, your jaw quivers at the sight of Daniel. You gasp for air with desperation. Surprise appears in his eyes, then shock and he runs over to you with fast steps, taking Taehyun from you.

No questions are asked as you slip into the helicopter. You sink into the seat and Daniel puts in Taehyun next to you, securing him with a sense of urgency.

You prepare for takeoff as Daniel turns around. His eyes search for yours. They're full of pity. “I'm sorry.”

Are those the words that you want to hear when you've just been an observer of your best friend's brain being blown out, splattering against the wallpaper?

“Save your words”, you mutter, but he has already turned around.

Fixating your eyes back on Taehyun, you tremble, taking his face into your hands with tenderness. His stubble brushes against your skin. You open your mouth and blow against his nose. You know that he can't hear you. The sound of the helicopter blades propelling you into the air is a white noise in your ears. You try to ignore everything, pushing every memory of the event to the back of your mind. Then, you look at Taehyun with tenderness in your eyes.

“Let's get away after this. Buy new passports. We can finally go to Taxco. You always wanted that. I'll even endure the sun for you.”

Your throat constricts. Taehyun had always been dreaming about settling down somewhere. In a sunny city. Someday. When all of this blood and gore finally ended.

Caressing his cheek with your thumb, you stare into his eyes. Death stares back at you.

With your last breath, you pray that someday sorrow will turn into something resembling joy. And then you press your lips against his.

A/N I feel like this one shot is such a great departure from how and what I usually write. If you've read any of my other stories, you might have noticed the change? Anyways, it was quite sad that Taehyun got eliminated. He was really charismatic on the show and obviously very talented.


	5. Lai Guanlin

Remember, I tell myself. The scent of coffee tickles my nose. The rich aroma. The flavor that I used to hate. These days I can't seem to get out of bed without brewing myself a cup or two. Maybe, three when fatigues is still lingering in my bones so unyieldingly, when the ghosts of the nights still envelop my body, trapping me in a cocoon of yawns.

I feel the coffee ghosting over my lips. It's so warm, almost hot, almost burning me, but then not at all. It flows down my throat and I let out a quiet sigh and put down the mug.

My fingers, I notice, are still painted with black ink. Especially my fingertips. I look at the imprint of letters and numbers on my skin, but I can't make out any words.

I wonder what I was writing tonight.

Thoughts of an insomniac.

I stumble out of my apartment and into Guanlin. He is already waiting in front of my door with his arms crossed, pressed against his chest. There is no sign of impatience on his face.

I once talked him into waiting for me, cajoled him into giving me a ride for nothing but a mumbled 'thank you' in exchange. He said he would rather be paid with smiles, one for each time he let me into his car and dropped me off at my university.

I would like to say that he succumbed to my womanly charms, but whenever he stands here, my hair is a mess and there a still signs of the pillow on my face. Thin lines imprinted into my skin. Maybe it's pity that makes him wait.

We walk to his car in silence, the kind of silence that makes you question whether you even exist, so I quickly busy myself with staring at Gualin instead.

Pity, conscientiousness, some weird sense of responsibility for the weird girl that lives beneath him, whatever it is...

I'm glad.

“Are you busy with exams?”

We get into his car and I breathe in the distinct scent. It's hard to describe what it smells lack. Upholstery. Sunlight. A distilled version of him.

I realize that I've been waiting too long with my answer and open my mouth. Exams. I have no idea when my exams are coming up. Have I been writing exams all along?

To quell my thoughts, I shut my eyes. Haphazardly and aimlessly, words stumble out out. “Exams are hard...”

I nod dumbly, as if to assure him that my meaningless words are worth something. He chuckles lightly and then turns to me. Now that we're out of the underground parking, the sunlight caresses his skin with soft strokes, gentle and warm. It seems almost iridescent on his skin, every imaginable color illuminating his pallid skin.

“Have they even started yet?”

My gaze drifts behind him to the green leaves, to the lush shrubs that sit on the side of the road calmly.

“They might have”, I answer, shrugging against the seatbelt that is holding me in place.

Guanlin is quiet.

“Just take a year off”, he suddenly proposes, like he's extemporizing, but his eyebrows knit together into a frown. The furrow on his forehead as old as my sorrows themselves.

I remember when I told him of my habits, spilled my secrets to him in a desperate attempt to get closer to him. Have I always been like that? Or is it just because of him?

As I ponder over this, the car comes to a stop at a red light.

“You can take a year off and focus on your health and your drawings..” Gualin trails off.

For a second, the thought excites me. Twelve months to heal. Twelve months to nurse my psyche.

But then, I remember my reality.

Unpaid bills. Gas, electricity. Rent. The money that my father left me is almost depleted. A river run dry.

Undeterred by my lack of reply, Gualin continues. “You can get a therapist and maybe...”

“I don't have enough money for that”, I mumble.

I feel his eyes on me. “Live with me”, he offers all of a sudden. “As a friend. As a lover. Whatever you want.”

The light turns green.


	6. Yoon Jisung

I was on a train at the time, perched in the seat as the grey snake pushed trough the landscape to the next village. Early morning sunlight suffused the cabin, making everything seem a bit paler. The oaks that lined the rails, the people sitting a few meters away, the grey floor.

Travelling. Again.

Once we stopped in the next hamlet, the conductor announced through the speakers: the stop would take a bit longer. Something had to be fixed. A breath escaped me and I leaned back against the upholstery.

I closed my eyes, my hands in my lap. Not long after I heard something shuffling next to me. I looked up to see a boy. He had short hair and wore a grey suit and a blue tie. I didn't know who he was, but he relaxed in the seat next to mine, his arms folded against his chest.

“Excuse me.”

I raised my voice a bit. “That is my seat.”

He looked at me. His eyes glided over my messy hair and my face and then to my backpack sitting next to me. His eyes were full of mischief, I noted, as if he could decide to pull your leg at any minute.

“Aren't you sitting on your seat?” he asked. “Or do you need two to feel comfortable?”

A bit flustered, I nodded.”I do, indeed. That's why I reserved this entire row.”

He unfolded his arms, then stared at me more intently, but made no motion to stand up from my seat. “You're one of the sensitive ones, then?”

“I like being left alone.” “Well,” he said. “I won't be leaving.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple. For a minute, I was amazed at the impoliteness. Not many people could be so blunt. Yet – I wanted my quiet back and I had paid for the seats.

“Jisung,” he said. “My name is Jisung.”

I opened my eyes to glare at him. He shrugged. “Might as well introduce myself. You're going to the last stop, too, aren't you?”

“How do you know?” I asked. He pointed to the brooch on my lapel.

“You're a student, too?”

He nodded. I looked at him closer. Small eyes and a lot of earrings. A hair color that was verging on some red of shade.

At last I finally remembered him. Yoon Jisung – now a third-year. He must have dyed his hair over the summer, I thought. It had prevented me from recognizing him earlier. Still, though, we had never talked before.

He showed me his dress shirt then and there, on his pocket, twinkled the same brooch I was wearing.

“You believe me now?” he asked.

“It's not that I don't believe you – I recognize you, but I as I now know who you are, I'd rather you leave me alone even more.”

He pouted a bit and pretended to wipe away some tears while looking at me. “You didn't look like the type of girl to care about someone's reputation.”

I let out a quiet snort. “If I do it's none of your business, but it isn't your reputation I'm talking about. I've seen you pranking the teachers before. I've heard you being loud and noisy, so forgive me for wanting nothing to do with you.”

He nestled closer into the seat at my words. “Well, that is fair, I guess.”

I couldn't tell if he was offended by my words until he reached into his pocket and produced some candy.

“You want some?” he asked, showing me the wrapped candy.

I shook my head.

“It's really tasty.”

I shook my head again. He unwrapped one and put it into his mouth.

“Aren't you curious what my element is?”

I glared at him. “I already know.”

He snapped his fingers and in an instant, the air was filled with a light breeze. I rolled my eyes at that. “Using our powers away from the school grounds is prohibited.”

He let out a chuckle, but the wind stopped. Then he turned to me. “You can manipulate the shadows, right?”

My mouth turned into a thin line. I nodded with reluctance and a victorious smile appeared on his face.

“I could tell right away even before you had to show them in class,” he said. “When I saw you during our first year. You had this aura. It was really dark and mysterious.”

I let out a breath and turned my head to the side, away from him, but Jisung continued talking. “It was pretty cool, too. I've never seen something like it before. I liked it.”

What?


End file.
